Screeching Madness and Sweet Pain
by likeateddybear
Summary: "I'm glad you thought the bees were the worst part!" John's smile fell from his face. He picked it up off the floor, brushed it off, put it back on his face, and it turned into a frown. Sherlock frowned. "Does that happen often?"  WARNING: PURE CRACK.


**AN: Let me just start this off by saying_ I AM SO SORRY._ Okay. Time to begin this madness.**

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><p>"SHERLOCK!" John screamed as he stomped into the flat and swung the door open, his jumper flapping about his toned abs in a way that clearly said 'UNF. YES. SEXY, SEXY.'<p>

"Yes, John?" Sherlock asked, looking at his violin carefully while nibbling the bow as if it had a question for him.

"I thought I told you NOT to keep bees in my pants?" John asked, promptly dropping his pants and letting three angry bees exit with their suitcases and complaint letters, which they brought directly to Sherlock who took them and read them very quickly.

"You could have at least been hospitable," Sherlock sighed. "Poor little Jimmy-bee was ill and they only needed a healthy place to stay. Naturally, a good doctor's trousers was their only option."

"Naturally," John repeated, running a hand through his mussed hair (probably from sex. or from just now when he ran his hand through it). He flattened slightly by inhaling his stomach just a tad. "You think I'm a good doctor?"

"Of course, John," Sherlock replied, placing his bow aside and letting the bees outside into the fresh, disgusting, rainy sunlight.

"Thanks, then," John said. He hesitated, wondering if he should offer Sherlock a push on the swing, but smiled instead. Sherlock looked over at him from the window and smiled back, slightly upset that John hadn't offered to push him on the swing.

"You're not angry, then?" Sherlock turned towards him, fingers picking at his shirt as if it was covered in maggots. Which it might have been - just a little. But not after he was done picking.

"No, Sherlock, I guess I'm not." The doctor smiled at him, shaking his head. Sherlock gave a beaming smile and moved swiftly towards him.

"I'm glad you thought the bees were the worst part!" John's smile fell from his face. He picked it up off the floor, brushed it off, put it back on his face, and it turned into a frown. Sherlock frowned. "Does that happen often?"

"There's _worse_? What did you do, Sherlock? What else could you _possibly_ have done that's worse than three bees living in my pants?"

"Clearly, you're being obtuse," Sherlock said _very _slowly, taking a full three minutes to get the whole sentence out. John waited patiently, as he is a very patient man. Then he gave a horrible gasp that hurt his throat because it wasn't a very good gasp at all!

"I am not fat!" he yelled, stomping his foot in emphasis. Sherlock stomped his foot in it as well, wondering when he dropped it on the floor. "What else have you done?"

"I gabliggled your gabaggle and couldn't help it when it flagared everywhere, but, gosh darn it, I tried!" Sherlock stated this while walking around John. John watched him and got dizzy and fell over, but Sherlock caught him.

Suddenly, ROMANCE.

**_Rewind. _**

"Sherlock," John gasped, falling with his dizziness. Sherlock gave a horrified gasp, his hands going up to each side of his face and his feet planting themselves. He threw himself to the floor, arms out to catch John.

But he threw himself to the wrong part of the floor.

DUN

_DUN_

_**DUUUUUUUUUN**_

"Sherlock!" John yelled, crashing to the floor.

"John!" Sherlock yelled back, squirming like a snake-hamster to John and latching onto him quickly, pulling him in.

"Sherlock," John said, breathlessly, meaning it sounded like a strangled "urk" noise in his throat because no breath escaped him at all. He continued with breath. "You... You caught me!"

They were silent, breathing air like most humans sometimes do. They stared deeply into each other's eyes.

"...Yep," Sherlock replied with a pop. "Would you also enjoy a lollipop, John?" he offered. John shook his head, expression awed.

"What a brilliant sacrifice!" John gasped three times in a row. Sherlock began to reply, but John decided he needed to gasp seven more times. Sherlock began to reply again, but John gasped once more.

He waited a couple of seconds.

"You done?"

John nodded, eyes latched onto Sherlock.

"Good. Then I would appreciate it if you would get your eye juices off of me," Sherlock said softly. John removed his eyes from Sherlock's skin and took the pillow that was being offered from Sherlock's soft words.

"Sherlock... This... fantastic sacrifice deserves a reward!"

"A reward?"

"A REWARD," John screeched, causing Mrs. Hudson downstairs to accidentally throw her whole tea set out of the window onto three puppies and then chuck her hat into the fireplace while screaming like the Hulk.

Sherlock smiled sweetly.

"Actually, I would like a lollipop," John said, taking Sherlock's and putting it into his own mouth. "Anyway," he slobbered around the lollipop, "Your reward can be a blowjob."

"Oh?" Sherlock asked, his arms tightening around John.

"Yep! Just let me hire the hooker and we'll get right to it."

"Oh. No thanks," Sherlock said. "Mycroft told me to stay away from them - they're full of cooties."

"Mycroft?" John asked in disbelief.

"Yeah."

"_Mycroft_?"

"Yes."

"MYCROFT?" John asked, laughing so loudly that he hurt his own ear drums.

"Yup."

"How nice of him to warn you."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Yes, I just said it was, didn't I?"

"Yes, I heard you, John, you _do _know that?"

"Yes, I do know that, Sherlock, surely you don't have to ask me that?"

"No, I don't, but do you really find it necessary to call me Sherly?"

"I didn't call you Sherly!"

"Good!"

"Do you want me to?"

"No!"

"No?"

"...Well, I dono... I might-"

"Sherly."

"No. Fuck that noise." John began to get up, but Sherlock held him tightly. "You're not getting up."

"I'm trying to."

"Yes, and I'm pointing out the fact that you're failing at it."

"Only because you're holding me down!"

"That's a fig newton of your imagination."

"I don't have time for your passive aggressive bull shit biscuit talk, Sherlock!"

"Fig newtons are not made out of bull shit!"

"Figs are bull shit in disguise."

"What, really?"

"No."

"Oh, good. I didn't want to admit that I know very well that they taste extremely different."

"What?"

"IT WAS FOR SCIENCE, JIM- IMEANJOHN-IAMNOTCHEATINGONYOU."

"Sherlock," John said very slowly. Sherlock nearly interrupted his slowness to tell him he was slow. "You do know we're not in a relationship, right?"

"Why, of course!"

"Just fuck buddies."

"Just fuck buddies," Sherlock repeated, a single tear falling down his face. John licked it up.

"Mmm, pain and lollipops is a good mix."

"It is? Can I punch you and try it myself?"

"Maybe later," John said, standing up. He helped Sherlock up and they stared at each other for a second. Which, really, doesn't count as staring because it was only a second long. "I'm going to make some tea."

Hours later, all the tea in the house was gone.

"All. Of the tea."

"Yes."

"ALL. Of. The tea."

"YES, John, all of the tea!"

"It's gone!"

"That's because you made it all!"

"WE DRANK SO MUCH TEA TODAY!"

"Does the flat smell like burnt hulk-hat to you?"

"You need to go to the store and pick up some more tea."

"John, your jam is getting cold."

"FUCK! I LEFT THE FRIDGE ON! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER?"

"What? Did you say something about spooning?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not."

"Can we spoon anyway?"

"Maybe later," John said, sucking in his cheeks, pulling in his chin, and raising his eyebrows suggestively. Sherlock stared at him.

"I don't get it."

"Oh, sorry," John said with sorrow.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Sherlock asked, motioning to sorrow.

"No. GET OUT OF MY FLAT, SORROW, YOU SORROW EXCUSE FOR A FRIEND!" John screeched. Sorrow left sadly.

"You've been yelling quite a lot today," Sherlock stated. John nodded.

"Yes," he said, "I know."

He said this because he knew.

Sherlock nodded. He was glad John had told him.

Suddenly, the door crashed open.

"What the FUCK?" John screeched. A man with a gas mask walked into the room, breathing deeply but only through the gas mask.

"What's our case, Lestrade?" Sherlock asked, striking a heroic pose. The figure gave a muffled snicker.

"No case, Sherlock," came Lestrade's voice from the gas mask.

"WHOOOAA! THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE IS REVILED!" John yelled, flailing his arms around. "SHERLOCK, YOU ARE BLOODY BRILLIANT!"

"OH, GOD, I'M BLEEDING," Sherlock yelled, pointing at a cut on his arm.

"THAT'S WHY I SAID BLOODY!"

"OH, GOD, I'M GOING TO DIE!" he screamed, but stopped and looked at John, ignoring the fact that Lestrade was leaning against the door frame - laughing. "Did you call me brilliant?"

"I did," John said. Sherlock lunged himself at John and kissed him hard on the mouth, making strangled moaning noises. An uncomfortable, humoured groan came from the doorway.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock, he's not wearing pants! Can't this wait?"

"NO!" Sherlock yelled at him and went back to kissing John, who was lying on the floor as if he was just electrocuted.

"No, this has to wait," Lestrade pulled Sherlock off of John by his coat. He didn't struggle, but he tried by staring at John. "Your flat is filled with some sort of gas that everyone in the building has inhaled."

"OXYGEN?" Sherlock yelled. Lestrade let go of Sherlock to support himself on the door frame again as he broke into fresh giggles.

"N-no, Sherlock, not oxygen. Come on, John, put your pants on. You guys need to follow me."

John stared at his pants.

"There were bees in those trousers, Lestring. BEES."

"Lestrade," he corrected, "And if there were they're not there anymore. Put them on."

John obeyed, but Sherlock stood in front of him.

"I don't think we can trust you. The REAL Lestrade wouldn't want John to put his pants on."

"Oh, now?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock shook his head, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"No, indeed not. He would want me to take John to his room and ravish him."

"I don't like radishes," John called from where he was, putting his pants on somehow inside-out. Lestrade gave a snort of laughter and blinked away the tears forming in his eyes.

"Good god, I wish I brought my camera. Come on, you two."

Sherlock hesitated.

"I'm still not sure..."

"I'll get you two ice cream."

"ICE CREAM?" John and Sherlock both yelled with gleeful expressions. Lestrade burst out laughing and held the door open for them. They both ran down the stairs as quickly as possible, swinging the door open. They were immediately escorted to an ambulance.

"John," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock," John said.

"I'm glad it was with you."

"Glad what was with me?"

"This. This whole mess. I know we're dead."

"Oh, wow, we _are_, aren't we?"

"Yes. Too bad we didn't get to fuck first."

"Yes, yes... Too bad." A single, manly tear fell down John's face. Sherlock grabbed his lollipop back and licked John's tear.

"You were right about the lollipops plus pain thing, John. Delicious."

"They're _not _going to hear the end of this," Anderson said as he closed the ambulance doors.

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><p><strong>AN: I don't even know where this all came from. It's complete trash, but I still enjoyed writing it. ...Right, I'm off to class, then.<strong>


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